


Taffy's Titillating Tales of Misadventure

by PathlessSpore



Series: The Misadventures of Taffy Aloro [2]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, Dungeons and Dragons 5E - Fandom, Forgotten Realms, Original Work
Genre: Action, Adventure, Family, Fantasy, Father-Daughter Relationship, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Tagging, Multi, No beta we die like bards, Original Character(s), Tagging as I go, The wholesome kind, baby's first adventure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:34:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28674537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PathlessSpore/pseuds/PathlessSpore
Summary: Taffy's Venture was supposed to be a time of joy and grand adventure, all in the company of good friends. There was supposed to be song and laughter, but since learning the truth of her own past and of the enemies she now must face, she can't help but feel lost. As a friend calls out across the Weave for her help she must struggle to come to terms with her new reality and everything that changes with it.
Series: The Misadventures of Taffy Aloro [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2091321
Kudos: 1





	1. Once Upon a Time

Taffy’s Titillating Tales of Misadventure  
Dungeons and Dragons 5E  
An Original Work  
Action/Adventure/Family/Hurt/Comfort  
Chapter 1  
Once Upon A Time

[Once Upon a Time - Adrian Von Ziegler](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4r6EdPTrnJI)

~~

It started with a melody.

Small at first, timid harp strings fluttered with each careful pass of her fingertips. The Bard closed her eyes against the silent tempo she’d set until she was lost in the swelling music. Before her was a desk already messy with sheet music, inkwells, and several stained quills. A terrarium sat neatly in the corner, occupied by a single large spider dressed in swirling colors of black and blue. The arachnid danced in languid circles to the Bard’s music as if she too was entranced by it.

A trance that was only broken when her finger slipped and hit a sour cord. The spider stopped her dance and glanced at the bard. A scowl crossed the fair ashen features of her face, and blue eyes darkened in distaste. Her ears, just poking out from the cascade of her long white hair, twitched several times before she put down her harp.

Far better than throwing it.

Taffy growled and rubbed her eyes. She’d been working for well over two hours now; perhaps it was a good time for a break. But taking a break meant leaving her room, and leaving her room meant possibly running into her father.

And being around him was still awkward as fuck.

It had been a week since they’d spoken, maybe? A week since she’d learned the truth and his reasons for leaving.

Her father, Kethys Aloro, was still a man shrouded in mystery to her. From their previous interactions, where he disguised himself in a silver mask, she could easily tell that he was a duelist of considerable skill. Subterfuge also seemed to be a specialty of his as well, given how quickly he could dispatch an opponent and from what little she knew of his past. 

Not to mention a spellcaster of terrifying aptitude.

Taffy shuddered, the memory of the throne room coming to mind. He’d made tossing around a creature near two times his size seem easy…

But the details of his past were unknown to her, though in all fairness she had yet to ask him.

Was she avoiding him?

No. Definitely not...

Maybe…

Taffy shook her head and picked her harp back up before she could think about it more. A knock came at her door before she could settle back in, and to her surprise Videl waltzed right in. The monk shot her a lopsided smile, a plateful of food in hand,

“Odric is making breakfast this morning,” she said, “He says you have to stop hiding and come sit with the rest of us.”

Taffy couldn’t have asked for a truer friend than Videl. Since their first meeting nearly three months prior the monk had been a steadfast pillar in the young bard’s venture. The woman carried herself with a sense of guarded strength and fierce dignity. There was a wisdom behind the tough façade she put up, and it had kept the both of them safe during their long travels together.

“Ughh, fine.” Taffy groaned, quietly cursing Odric’s attempts to make her socialize. Her chair scraped across the floor as she stood, leaving her harp in favor of taking the spider with her. The Madame had been her first friend since the bygone days of her childhood. The perfect listener to a lonely little girl who liked to play her harp to the arachnid. The colorful spider crawled from her palm to her shoulder, hiding herself in Taffy’s thick expanse of curls.

Videl retreated back into the hall to wait, and fell into stride next to Taffy back out into the sitting room. Her father’s sanctum was beyond anything she could have ever imagined herself. Grand, decadent, and far larger than it appeared. This long hallway was filled with doors to personalized bedrooms, three already occupied by Taffy and her friends. A single door lay at the very end; her father’s according to Odric though it was rarely used.

The hallway opened out onto a second floor. A set of double doors occupied the northern wall atop a sweeping staircase leading down into the sitting room. They were closed, as always, but she assumed that somewhere behind them was her father. He seemed to work nonstop, only emerging from his study when it was necessary or when Odric pulled him out by his ears. 

His reclusiveness worked just fine for her, however.

Down the stairs they went and through an unassuming door into a bright dining room. Several bodies already occupied the chairs this morning. A loud whine echoed out from beneath the table and a chair was suddenly pushed to the side as Ysova crawled out to greet them. A wet bear nose nudged her in the thigh and she was rewarded with gentle scritches beneath her muzzle.

“And a good morning to you sweetums,” Cooed Taffy, “Who’s a pretty girl?”

Ysova huffed loudly and licked her arm before turning to waddle over to the side of her half orc companion. Syrrek smirked into his food and reached a hand out to tug lovingly at her ear. The large bear flopped to the floor with a heavy thud. The woodsman then turned his gaze up to Taffy and Videl.

His greeting was a simple and quiet “Morning.” before his eyes turned back down to his food. Taffy couldn’t blame him for his melancholy mood. While she had asked if he wanted to join her motley crew of misfits before, at the very least that had been a choice. Now he was here in the Sanctum for his own safety. Her father’s enemies had suddenly become her own; the Weeping Blades knew of her, and anyone who’d been in close contact with her was now a target. A harsh lesson learned when her father had brought Syrrek and Ysova in a few days prior, both bloodied and beaten from an ambush.

She couldn’t help but feel guilty when she looked at him now. Syrrek offered her a small smile as she and Videl grabbed a seat. From the kitchen she could hear the clatter of pots and pans on the other side of the door, whatever Odric was making in there it sounded as if he was making a mess.

And the head of the table? Taffy inwardly groaned. Her father was busy pouring over a pile of paperwork that was slowly being spread out across the table. He looked just as tired as ever as he gazed down at the stack of sheets in hand, a quill magically scribbling across a few forms while the one in his hand filled out others. There was a frown of concentration set deep into his face as he worked; one that didn't shift with the fleeting glance he gave them.

Taffy made sure to sit in the chair farthest away.

The Madame scuttled down from her perch upon Taffy's shoulder to the table. The bard ran a finger down the fuzzy abdomen of her spider who quickly disappeared to explore.

Odric soon came bursting out of the kitchen, a handful of Unseen Servants following behind, hands full of steaming hot plates. The ghostly servants quickly passed around food with the Elf, sliding a hearty breakfast to everyone who'd just seated. Videl grabbed her second helping eagerly while Syrrek simply slid his plate to the floor.

Kethys was the last to be served. He didn’t bother looking up, the quills scribbling across the parchment at a maddening pace. Odric cocked a brow before he relieved her father of his writing tool. This time the older Drow did look up, a rather tired and bored look on his face as if the pair had done this routine a thousand times before.

“Put it away and participate,” Odric scolded, “You’re being rude.”

“It has to get done, and you know it.” her father argued. The other quill, which had continued its work without prompt, was taken in hand. Before he could so much as put the tip to paper that too was appropriated. For good measure, Odric took a nearby decanter and poured the contents all over the table. Kethys merely looked down at the mess with a blank and defeated expression.

“Oh no~,” Odric smirked, tossing the decanter aside. It was caught by an Unseen Servant who floated back into the kitchen with it. “Now you have no choice but to participate.”

Odric pulled out the chair next to her and sat with a grunt. The faintest eye roll crossed Kethys’ features. One by one he took the ruined sheets in hand and with a quick prestidigitation spell cleaned them off. Only when they were good as new and stacked neatly did he rap a knuckle against the table. They vanished with a flutter, and with a final dry scowl at Odric, her father dug into breakfast.

Taffy coughed into her hand to hide her laughter.

At the other end of the table Syrrek finally finished his breakfast. The empty plates were whisked away by the Sanctum’s servants. He gave Taffy and Videl a nod before departing, a pall following after him as well as Ysova.

Videl polished off her fourth and final plate with a loud belch. A content look crossed her face as she leaned back into her chair. If she noticed the awkward tension in the room it was plain to see that she didn't care

Taffy gazed down at her plate as the silence stretched on. All that could be heard was the occasional scratch of forks against porcelain. The Madame had returned a short time after breakfast was served, skittering across the table to take food from Taffy's plate. Her mandibles worked over a small bite of pineapple as her feet tippy tapped against the hardwood.

It made Taffy smile, and she ran another finger along the spider’s abdomen.

“So,” Odric leaned over and gently flicked her ear, “Have you decided where you want to go next on your Venture?”

Taffy grumbled and batted his playful hand away. Outside of her mother, she didn’t like anyone playing with her ears. “Not really, no.”

The old elf chuckled and did it again; either he was unaware that he was annoying her or he simply didn’t care, “Well there’s plenty of places to go. I can give you some ideas if you’d like.”

Taffy’s palms started to itch with her rising irritation. This time she pushed his shoulder in an attempt to get him to stop. Normally she’d let his teasing slide right off of her, but she really wasn’t in any sort of mood for his shenanigans today. He went back for a third flick to her ear; her anxiety and anger peaked this time but before she could push him away a loud Crack! filled the air.

Odric cursed and fell back out of his chair from the shock of a bolt of pure electricity being shot through him. Taffy yelped and did the same, more surprised than hurt. Odric’s hair was frizzy and on end, his eyes nearly crossed before he shook his head.

Taffy looked down at her palms, now burning painfully, and spied the runes glowing brightly on her skin. She trembled all over in an effort to keep herself from casting more spells. She could hear the Weave around her humming, and the vibrations were only growing more powerful.

In a flash, and without so much as a sound, her father was at her side. Kethys took her by the hands and began to run his thumbs over her palms as if tracing arcane symbols. He began to chant in a deep baritone; magic filled his words and soon the runes in her hands began to fade into a dull glow. Around her the Weave grew still and the humming settled into a faint thrum.

Her shaking subsided after a few minutes.

“Sorry Odric,” Taffy muttered, all but yanking her hands from her father’s touch. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Don’t apologize,” Kethys said, shooting a look over his shoulder to Odric. The old elf grumbled and pulled himself back into his chair. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” Kethys stood and offered his hand to her. Shyly, she let him haul her up to her feet. She was back in her seat the next instant. Her father gently rapped Odric’s head with a knuckle as he strode back to his chair,

“Keep the teasing to a minimum.” He warned coldly, pushing aside his plate and tapping the table. The paperwork returned as his dish was taken, and he once again took a quill in hand. Odric simply shot him a scowl before giving Taffy an apologetic smile,

“I’m sorry, Taffy.” He pulled her in close and kissed the top of her hair. She huffed and allowed him the smallest bit of affection, a smile of her own on her lips.

“I’ll set you on fire next time, Old Man.” She cautioned; it earned her a loud laugh,

“I don’t doubt it!”

She pushed him away with a chuckle. Videl, who had been quiet during the whole debacle, simply watched the interaction with amusement. The Madame hovered close by the empty plates, nervously pacing from all the loud noise. She scuttled back to Taffy once she was back in her seat, crawling up her proffered palm and back onto her regular perch. She felt tiny feet touch the skin of her cheek, and she turned to nuzzle her spider friend.

Full now, she gave Odric a final smirk goodbye. Her plates were taken away as she pushed her chair from the table and hastily retreated from the room. Videl was hot on her heels, and soon the pair of them were back in the Bard’s room relaxing on the large four poster bed.

“It was a good question, though.” Videl pointed out, casually lounging on her stomach, “You can go anywhere you want, ya know?”

“I know,” Taffy replied, leaning back on her collection of pillows. She lazily plucked at her harp, “But is it even safe? This Cult of Xehere fiasco is kind of serious, right? They know about me, about you and Syrrek. If we go out we’re moving targets, right?”

“You can’t spend the rest of your life living in fear, Taffy. You hide in here, you let them win. Besides, being in here means you're stuck running into your father, and I swear it cannot get anymore awkward between the two of you.”

Taffy groaned, “I know! I just… I don’t know what to say to him!”

“Yeah, ‘thanks for the pent up bitter resentment’ is a little much… If it’s any consolation, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t really know what to say to you either.”

The thought helped, if only a little.

“He had his reasons, I know that, but…”

“Taffy, you believed a thirteen year lie,” Videl comforted, “If he expects you to just let it all go the moment you know the truth, then he’s even more fucked in the head than I thought.”

Taffy nodded; it helped to have Videl here to vent to.

“Though I will admit,” She added, “As far as shitty dads go, he’s not the worst. He gives you space, doesn’t force you to do anything you don’t want to. Gotta give credit where it’s due.”

“That’s true,” The songstress conceded, “I want… It’s so fucked up right? I have these memories of him, of us. I _loved_ him, missed him when he had to leave. And then it was all taken away, and all I can remember is hating him for being gone, for making mom sad. For not being there when mom died, when I _needed_ him. And these feelings are all jumbled up inside me, and I don’t know…”

“Taffy, no one is asking you to figure this shit out right here and now,” Videl scolded gently, “You gotta do this at your own pace. If you hate him one minute and end up loving him the next, or vice versa, no one is gonna make a big deal about it.”

Taffy nodded again, “Thanks Videl.”

“It’s nothing, besides,” She reached over and gently nudged Taffy’s thigh, “Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t drive yourself crazy.”

The pair of them giggled, and once again she was thankful. For she couldn’t have asked for a truer friend than Videl.


	2. Legacy

Taffy’s Titillating Tales of Misadventure  
Dungeons and Dragons 5E  
Original Work  
Action/Adventure/Family/Hurt/Comfort  
Chapter 2  
Legacy

[Legacy - Adrian Von Ziegler](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9PJtyCN-AxE)

~~

Another day, another sour cord. 

The aged harp was set atop her desk for the umpteenth time as Taffy rubbed furiously at her tired eyes. She once again sat at her desk trying to work, the sheet music spread out before her. Yet, the more she tried to work the more the music seemed to escape her.

If she was honest with herself she felt like she was being stretched thin. She knew she needed to take a break, but it meant having the wherewithal to think about everything else. And that meant getting mad, or depressed, or some other negative emotion she didn’t want to deal with.

Because she was Taffy; the one who liked to make everyone smile with a song. The one who found the up side in every situation. The one who believed in heroes, and the power of fairy tales.

If she wasn’t that, then who the hell was she?!

Before she could spiral further into her own dark thoughts an incessant scratching came at her door followed closely by a muffled whine. Curious she pushed back from her desk to investigate and soon found a very distressed Ysova clambering into her room. She nudged the door closed before turning to hide in a corner of the room between her bed and her dresser.

A soft knock caught her attention and she found Syrrek standing on the opposite side of the threshold. He gave her a grimace,

“It’s bath time.”

A simple explanation that elicited a sympathetic nod from Taffy, “Understandable, do you need help?”

“I don’t want to be a bother…”

She shook her head, “No bother, let me get some treats.”

It took thirty minutes of coaxing, hard work, and a surplus of sweets to get Ysova into the large tub in Syrrek’s room. The large bear munched lazily on the sweet berry tarts Taffy handed to her while their half orc companion worked a brush up and down her back. She gazed at him from time to time, a shy blush creeping into her cheeks that she hoped he couldn’t see.

“Are you settling in okay?” Taffy asked, planting a gentle kiss on the bear’s snout. Syrrek shrugged his shoulders and pulled a few burrs free from her hide.

“As well as I can be, I suppose.”

His answer, albeit short, still made her feel guilty. She tried to find the right words to say, but couldn't even imagine what he was going through to offer comfort to begin with. Instead, she fed Ysova the last tart and grabbed a nearby towel to help dry her off.

"I don't blame you," Syrrek said once their work was finished. They watched Ysova yawn and lumber into her nest in the far off corner of the room. The woodsman gave her a long side eyed glance before turning to clean up the mess, "For us being here, I mean."

Just as he picked up the towels from the floor the Sanctums ghostly servants appeared to take over the work. Syrrek grimaced but let them do as they pleased. Taffy just sighed and averted her gaze. Syrreks room was different from her own. Much like his hollow back in the Vastwood. A bed for Ysova was laid out in the corner while a bed for him sat just opposite. There was a cooking fire, just an illusion provided by the Sanctum, but it offered heat and light just the same.

"Hopefully, when my father finishes his work, you'll be able to go back home to the Vastwood."

Syrrek shrugged at Taffy's attempt to comfort him, "Don't get me wrong, being here is nice. I've never slept on a bed this soft, or eaten food cooked so well. Everything is perfect."

He sat on the bed and took up his twin axes; long black braids tumbled over his shoulders as he procured oil rag from the nearby backpack. With a careful eye and steady hand he ran it over the edge of the blade.

"Too perfect sometimes," he added, glancing up as the servants finished their work and silently disappeared, "The food is great, but sometimes I miss the imperfections of home cooked meals. The way you could bite into a burnt bit and spit it out."

Taffy quietly approached Ysova's bed and laid against her great belly, a belly that rose and fell with each deep breath. The pair of them listened to Syrrek as he began to lose himself to the rhythm of his work.

"Softest bed I ever slept on, but I miss my bed back home. The way the rough furs felt against my back, and yeah sometimes it was uncomfortable but each of those pelts I hunted and tanned myself."

He looked up at Taffy then, a strange and far off look on his face, "Everything here is taken care of for us; as much of a paradise as it is I just miss being able to do the simplest things. I don't want or need servants picking every little thing up after me…"

Then, all at once, Syrrek seemed to remember himself and his surroundings. He shook his head, "I'm sorry, I don't mean to complain. I'm grateful that your father saved my life and brought Ysova and I here."

"You don't have to apologize or explain," Taffy assured him, "I get it. I really do. My Momma used to think the same thing; she always said that just because you can use magic for everything it doesn’t mean you should.”

“A wise woman,” The huntsman nodded, “I would’ve liked to have met her.”

That compliment alone was enough to make Taffy smile, and for a moment she let herself just simply exist with Syrrek and Ysova.

~~

Videl eyed her from across the dining room table with the cards in her hands laying face down. A single finger tapped lazily upon the polished wood as Taffy gauged her options. She got lucky with a flush, but she wasn’t sure if it was enough to beat whatever Videl had in hand. No matter how hard she observed she couldn’t decipher if her tapping finger was a tell or some sort of bluff.

It was spiraling down into a quiet evening in the Sanctum. Videl had invited her to a game of cards about an hour or so ago, for which she was thankful because Taffy was once again in the throes of composing and at her wits end. Cards offered her a much needed distraction, and as far as she was aware her father wasn’t home at the moment.

A nice, quiet evening.

“Quit stalling, Taffy, let’s seem ‘em.”

With a huff the bard showed her hand as Videl flipped her cards, and the monk cursed under her breath. Two pair, a loss to Taffy’s flush. The bard grinned and grabbed the handful of copper she’d won.

“Another round?”

Videl gathered and shuffled the cards with a nod. Two rounds passed and soon Syrrek ventured from his room to join them for the evening. Some rounds after that Videl procured a strong wine for the three of them, and before any of them knew it Odric was their fourth and they were all well on their way to being drunk.

“Okay,” Videl poured herself a glass, her voice slurred and thick, “Never have I ever… been arrested.” Everyone save for Syrrek took deep sips from their glass. Videl snorted and grinned mischievously at Taffy, “I’m not surprised about Odric, but you Taffy? You’re a fucking angel!”

Odric scoffed, “Tell that to my bank account…”

“And to the Captain of the Vassal Guard.” She chimed, a toothy grin on her face.

“What did you do?!” Syrrek seemed almost incredulous. It earned him a laugh somewhere between a giggle and a snort.

“Oh a bunch of stuff! One time, I started a party that got so out of hand the town guard had to be called. I convinced them to join in, and it only stopped when I was thrown in jail. I got fined for property damage, misconduct, and a ton of other stuff.”

“How much?” Videl looked to Odric who just shook his head, but a new voice cut in over him,

“Enough that he made me pay for it.” Kethys kicked the dining room closed behind him and rounded the table to his chair. Luckily, Taffy was far too buzzed to care that they were in the same room together. Her father looked like hell, more so than usual. Like he’d just gotten out of a ten man fight by the skin of his teeth, but if he was tired he was certainly trying not to show it. The table shared a laugh, and Taffy found herself finishing off the contents of her glass.

The bottle was slid across the table to her by Syrrek to which she promptly filled it back up. Her father indicated to the bottle next; it slid smoothly across the hardwood and he poured the last on the contents into a glass he pulled from thin air. The bottle was tossed aside to a waiting Servant who returned shortly with another bottle of wine.

“Alright,” Taffy muttered, eager to continue the game. The cards had long since been forgotten by now, “Never have I ever… taken something that didn’t belong to me.”

Everyone, including her father, took a shot. Taffy grinned,

“I take Odric’s shit all the time, especially the good wine he kept in the hatch beneath his armchair back home.”

“I fucking knew it!”

“It’s not like you hid it very well, Old Man!” She shot back, sticking her tongue out at him. The High Elf simply returned it with a playful scowl before tapping his chin thoughtfully,

“I once stole a prize set of jewels from a noble lady in the Veil city of LaFey.”

“Is that why you hid in the house for like six months straight?” Taffy teased dryly, to which her father snorted a simple and amused,

“Yes.” He smirked into his glass, “Her husband was quite upset if I recall.”

“Not just about the jewels, that’s for sure.”

“Fucking gross,” Videl shot back an entire glass of wine and reached for the unopened bottle. Instead of the dark red they’d been drinking all night, a sparkling white filled her glass this time. Either way, Videl seemed satisfied with it, “Grandmaster had a pet goat. Bunch of initiates and I took the thing on a joy ride, got drunk, and we seriously thought we lost it until we got back and found it back in its pen. Thing was magic, swear to the gods.”

“Poachers; offered to be their guide, nicked their gear while they slept, set their horses loose, and then left 'em’ in the middle of the Vastwood. Got some good coin from it.” The pleased look on Syrrek’s face did not escape her notice. 

That only left her father, who sat quietly at the head of the table. There was this air of anticipation as they waited for a story, but it soon became evidently clear he had no intention of sharing. Which earned him a scoff from a very drunk Odric,

“Really? Nothing from the man who basically made a career of taking shit that doesn’t belong to him?”

“Taking things that people shouldn’t have in the first place,” Kethys corrected coldly, shooting Odric a venomous glare.

“Oi, we all went, now you gotta share with the rest of us. It’s only fair.” Videl snarked, shooting Taffy a sly lopsided grin. Her father sighed with a roll of his eyes but leaned back to think all the same. Everyone, including herself, leaned in.

“I’ve acquired many artifacts over the years, and many of them taken from bad people. The most exciting? I suppose I’m not sure, I’ve only ever considered this… work. Nothing more.”

“Cop out!” Coughed Taffy into her hand, and a ripple of laughter passed through the table. Even her father smiled at that, but he simply shook his head in amusement without elaborating further. They carried on well into the night until Taffy suddenly found herself hanging off Videl’s shoulder all the way back to their rooms. Odric and Kethys were the only ones left as everyone went to bed, talking in low voices to one another.

Before she knew what was happening she was being dressed down and tucked in, floating off into dreamland. For the most part she drifted in and out of sleep, her drunken haze making her dreams uneasy. Downward and downward she spiraled into the swaying black until she found herself surrounded by fire. Taffy sat up and panicked, not in her four poster bed but in her childhood home. She could hear screaming above the din of the raging inferno that was engulfing her room. She scrambled from her bed and ran to the door throwing it open only to come face to face with the swamps she’d once known so well. Sinister shadows lurked on the edges of the fire, writhing bodies with glinting steel in hand.

At her feet was the body of her mother, her dead eyed stare gazing listlessly at a cold sky above. Then a shadow fell over her, and she looked up in horror into the golden gaze of a woman far larger than she with hair that blazed red like the fire around her.

And Taffy could do nothing but scream…

The scream followed her into her waking moments, and it grated against her already raw throat. For several seconds she struggled to breath through the panic coursing through her system. Her palms burned, the runes glowed brightly while the air felt thick with each intake, and she could even hear the erratic screeching in the Weave. Warm heat touched her cheek and to her horror she found her dresser nearby set ablaze. Fire quickly spread up the wall and soon engulfed half the room in a inferno that matched her nightmare.

But before she could so much as panic her bedroom door opened with a bang and an unsettling pall fell over the room. The Weave went deathly still, the air thinned out, and the fire snuffed out leaving the smoldering remains of her dresser behind. Her father stood just inside the threshold with a look on his face that matched the raw horror she felt. She gazed back down at her palms and blank skin met her eye.

She was crying in the next moment, thick strands of tears rolling down her cheeks. She pulled her legs close to hold them and curled in on herself. The dream had been terrifying enough on its own, but to wake up to find her room on fire was more than she could take. Her magic was slowly fluctuating out of control and she just didn’t know what to do. How long before she injured herself, or gods forbid someone she loved?

A sudden weight shifted her bed that was followed closely by a hand upon her head, as if her father was asking permission. She leaned into him without a second thought. Kethys pulled her close and wrapped a single arm around her shoulders while his free hand found her own. His chin rested atop her head and he remained silent until she’d finally spent the last of her tears, her shoulders wracking with subtle shudders.

“What’s happening to me?” She whispered; she could hear his steady heartbeat just beneath her ear. For a long while he was quiet, and a part of her feared that he wouldn’t answer. Anxiety lanced through her at that; was she so dangerous that he couldn’t put it into words, a monster to be feared--

“How about we put something in your stomach first?” Her father suggested, “You were drinking earlier, and crying just dehydrates you even more. Once you’ve calmed down some we can talk about this. Is that okay?”

She nodded after a minute or two of quiet thought, and she couldn’t help but feel like she was in for a long night.


	3. Rún

Taffy's Titillating Tales of Misadventure  
Dungeons and Dragons 5e  
An Original Work  
Action/Adventure/Family/Hurt/Comfort  
Chapter 3  
Rún

_Vaki (Awaken)_   
_Þat mant (Remember)_

[ _Rún - Skald_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1bfsvePhF7U)

~~

The moment the warm stew hit her stomach Taffy began to feel better. The bowl in her hands was hot to the touch, tufts of steam roiling off the top with a hearty aroma that filled her nose. It reminded her of her mother's cooking back home, and she idly wondered if it reminded her father of the same. A lounge sofa had been summoned for her to curl upon, replacing the single chair that usually occupied the center of the Mirror Room.

Shards of broken glass danced delicately high overhead with bits of light reflecting off them. Flashes of color and sound softly emanated from a few, but from where she was sitting Taffy couldn't discern the passing images. She couldn't help but gaze up at them in amazement. No matter how she felt about him she had to admire her father's talent in the arcane.

His sanctum, for example, was truly a feat unto itself. It resided in its own pocket dimension, nestled in the empty space of a modest house. Yet the house? It sat upon a cloud formation, high overhead the vast continents of the world. It was inaccessible to all save for those who held a special key. Odric's grin when he first showed her days ago, opening a window so she could peer outside, matched the awe she felt. She could make out the faint roads far below her, wind billowing past as they floated lazily by, and lakes and rivers seemed to be nothing more than mere blemishes.

Her keen hearing picked up the subtle click of his office door somewhere behind her, pulling her from her reverie.

She tipped back her bowl to drain its contents just as a chair appeared from thin air in front of her. One that was soon occupied by her father. A good look at him told her that he was tired, but then again he always looked tired to her. Elves in general did not usually show their vast age, but there was something about the worry lines and crow's feet in his face that made her father seem so ancient. She wondered just what he did that made him seem so exhausted all the time, but a part of her wasn’t sure if she wanted to know the answer.

Taffy averted her gaze with the rising awkwardness in the room. Without the imminent threat of her room being on fire she found that she had no words to say. She cursed the silence that stretched between them, wondering if any of this was going to get better or if this whole ordeal was just a waste of her time. She tightened her grip on the bowl, her thoughts running wild until her father’s soft baritone filled her ears,

“Are you feeling better?”

She nodded mutely, still unable to look up at him.

She knew she needed to cut herself, and him, a break. It had been little more than a week since they’d reunited. There was bound to be a few bumps in the road of rebuilding their relationship. Nothing was going to get better if she didn’t at least try.

But what if she tried…

And he just left all over again?

It hurt to think about. It had been easy the last time, all he had to do was wipe her memory. What was stopping him from doing the same thing all over again? Taffy’s grip around the bowl tightened. A thin crack appeared at the bottom and began to emit a cold mist. She yelped in surprise as ice quickly formed, encasing the bowl as she threw it to her feet. It was caught before it could hit the floor.

Her father regarded the ceramic bowl with the aid of a mage’s hand; there was a look in his eye she couldn’t decipher. It wasn’t exactly concern, nor was it fear. Then, just as quickly as it had been caught, he simply discarded it with a wave and it disappeared. Taffy turned her gaze down back to her hands. She could make out the faint outline of her runes; Uruz, the rune of strength and Aurochs. From her palms intricate swirling lines traced their way across her palm and part way up her forearm.

That was new…

“What’s happening to me?”

Her voice was barely above a whisper. She buried her clenched fists in her lap.

“It is,” He spoke slowly, as if choosing his words carefully, “A magical talent that you’ve inherited from your mother.”

Taffy furrowed her brow and shook her head, “How? I’ve never been able to do anything like this before. Even the Head Arcanist in College said I was hopeless.”

“Your mother, despite my objections, thought it best to limit your access to the Weave. This was done for your safety, and the safety of those around you. You were very young when you started to show talent. I remember a time when a certain fussy three year old demolished half the house because her mother wouldn’t give her a treat.”

He chuckled, his usual tired expression softening at the memory. Taffy blushed at that yet she couldn’t fight the tiny smirk.

“That still doesn’t really explain why all of this is happening.”

“It’s difficult to say, though I have a few theories,” he shrugged, “The limitations placed on you may have been designed to wear off over time. Your mother and I had every intention of educating you when you grew old enough after all. It could also be that your magic is reacting to events around you with such force that it's overcoming and breaking the limitations itself.”

Her father leaned forward in his chair, long hair tumbling over his shoulder as he clasped his hands and rested heavily on his knees, “Under normal circumstances most spellcasters need focus to reach out and access the Weave. You don’t; the Weave flows through you, reacting to your emotions and your intention. However, a lack of focus for you means that your magic runs wild if you’re unable to control said emotions. You’ve been under an incredible amount of stress lately, Taffy, so it’s no surprise that your magic is fluctuating.”

She nodded; it was certainly a lot to take in, but knowing what was going on made her feel better.

“So what now?”

“The most direct solution would be to teach how to properly channel your magic.” He sat up and leaned back in the chair, “If that is something you're interested in, of course.”

“Yeah, I’d like to not set my bedroom on fire again…” She replied dryly. To her surprise her father chuckled and smiled softly at her,

“Then we’ll start in the morning,” he said, “It’s late and you need to sleep.”

“But what if I have another nightmare?” Taffy watched her father stand with a grunt, clutching the blankets close. The idea of sleeping frightened her, she didn’t want to wake up to another raging inferno. A pensive expression crossed his face at that before he simply waved his hand in reply. To her utter surprise a pair of bookshelves nearby shuddered to life and parted to reveal a large door.

“Well then let’s see what we have on hand. Come along, my angel.”

Eager and curious she quickly discarded the blanket and ran to catch up to her father through the door. They came out into another larger room separated into two different levels. The ground floor, where they’d entered, contained a swath of display cases on either side of her. She peered into one as her father walked, eyeing a collection of intricate wands neatly laid out and organized. Another contained glittering crystal orbs, arcana swirling within their depths. 

Flush to the wall of the ground floor were singular displays. Taffy gasped as they passed one that sat near a set of stairs. An ancient crown rested upon a pillow encased by glass. The gold and jewels glittered in the low light and she could just make out a lion’s head engraving.

“Is that the crown of Uther Vermillion?” Taffy couldn’t almost believe her eyes. Her father hovered at her side for a moment before offering a snort of derision,

“I have very few joys in my line of work,” He said, turning on his heel to ascend the stairs, “But killing that man was the greatest of them.”

“I thought King Maxwell killed him?” She followed after him as he walked the length of the second floor. There were no display cases to be found here, instead the walls were lined with what she would equate to fairly sizable drawers. Her father was searching for something in particular, but her question still earned her an amused huff.

“Maxwell Vermillion was a great man, make no mistake about that, but Uther was still his father.. He didn’t have the heart to do what needed to be done. I suppose it matters little in the end; history will remember Maxwell as the Tyrant Slayer, and I prefer it that way.” He shot a mischievous look over his shoulder, “Needless to say the Civil War killed what little taste for politics I had left. I turned to a different profession that didn’t require so much...bloodshed.”

“Taking shit that doesn’t belong to you?” Taffy cocked a brow and hid her smirk behind her hand, repeating the very phrase Odric had used earlier in the night. Her father scoffed,

“Taking things that people shouldn’t have in the first place,” he parroted back in amusement, “Or to put it simply: Acquisitions.”

They came to a stop at the end of the walkway. With a lazy wave of the hand the cases on the wall began to rearrange themselves. A single drawer near the ceiling made its way down and through the chaos, coming to a rest within reach. The displays on the wall shuffled into an eerie stillness as her father pulled open the drawer.

Out and out it extended, reaching well over the bannister and over the room below. Laid out neatly was a generous collection of jewelry. Rings, necklaces and bracelets of varying designs met her eye. Kethys pulled out the display even more until he eventually plucked a bracelet from among the pile.

And just as quickly as he had pulled it open her father slid the drawer closed.

And before she knew it, the bracelet was being offered to her. She shot him a quick glance as she took it, turning it over in her hands. It was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship, burnished bronze and silver filigree glistened and shone. Two stones were set into it, a pearl in the shape of the sun and a dark stone in the shape of a crescent moon. What appeared to be a dial sat between the two stones.

“What does it do?”

Her father helped her put it on, and deft fingers showed her how to flip the dial into place, “You recognize this?” He indicated to the pearl, to which she shrugged, “It’s a Sending Stone, my angel. They typically come in pairs and allow two people to talk over great distances. I have its twin. If you need to talk to me and I’m not nearby, then you only need to use this.”

He then pointed to the dark crescent moon stone, “This is a Nullstone; when the dial is flipped over it will negate the magic of whoever is wearing it. This should help you sleep more easily at night.”

Taffy held out her wrist and admired her gift before pulling back to tug at the hem of her shirt. “Thank you.” She said shyly. Her father merely shook his head and smiled at her,

“Of course, I’m pleased you like it.” A yawn suddenly took her by surprise, and earned her a laugh from her father. His hand brushed back the length of curls from her face, tucking it gently behind her ear, “Now it’s definitely time for bed. Come, my angel, there’ll be plenty of time for magic after a good night’s rest.”

She nodded and allowed him to guide them back out into the Mirror Room, and then straight to her room. Everything had returned to normal as she closed the bedroom door behind her. As if she hadn’t set it on fire an hour or so before. Yet, she was too tired to care now. She dragged her feet all the way back to the expanse of her bed, and was barely under the covers before she passed out.

And for the rest of the night she had a dreamless, and blissful, sleep.


	4. May dance

Taffy's Titillating Tales of Misadventure  
Dungeons and Dragons 5e  
An Original Work  
Action/Adventure/Family/Hurt/Comfort  
Chapter 4  
May Dance

_May Dance - David Arkenstone_

~~

_Taffy…_

A soft baritone called to her through a thick haze of black. Taffy groaned and turned over in her sleep. She was too comfortable and warm to be bothered so she curled deeper within her blankets. A soft laugh followed after her, and through the haze of her sleepiness she felt a gentle tug on her ears.

_My angel, you need to wake up. You’ve been sleeping all day…_

She grumbled at that. An eye cracked open and gazed blearily up at the figure hovering at the side of her bed. Her father smiled down at her and pushed a stray strand of hair from her face.

“Come along,” he whispered, “It’s three in the afternoon.”

“What, really?” She blinked and yawned without meaning to. She only remembered falling asleep the night before. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, my angel. You’ve been through so much lately so it was to be expected. I just want you to get up so you can eat.”

Taffy nodded; it took her a few minutes to find the willpower to leave her bed. She was just so warm and sleepy, and being wrapped up in all her blankets made her feel so far away. But her father chuckled and tugged at her ear again. She made a face and a very unattractive noise escaped her as she chased away his hand. Eventually she sat up; her father passed a hand over her head before making for the door.

“If you fall asleep again I’ll take away your blankets.” He warned teasingly before he left. She made another face before throwing back her covers. It took her a little while to get ready, enough that her father came to check on her about a half hour later. He found her sitting at her vanity dresser, staring listlessly at her makeup and half dressed.

“Taffy?”

“I feel so...heavy…”

She barely registered his presence at her side. He took her by the hand, the bracelet on her arm glinting in the light. A soft click and suddenly it was like the world snapped back into focus. The subtle hum of the weave breathed to life around her and the heaviness slowly began to leave her limbs. She gazed up at her father who simply patted her hand gently.

“A side effect of being cut off from the Weave,” he explained simply in response to her curious gaze, “You’ve been slowly exposed to it over the past few days.. Colors and sound seem brighter and louder the more attuned one becomes to magic. To be cut off after being exposed, even for a little while, can be...unnerving.”

Unnerving was an understatement.

“Everything was,” she stared at herself in the mirror, “bland… How have I never noticed before?”

Her brush was taken in his hand and passed through her hair. White tresses passed beneath his steady hand, careful fingers close after. “There are some who simply exist without ever knowing the touch of the Weave, and they are happy because they don’t know any better.”

“So what would happen if you were cut off?”

He seemed to pause in deep thought, the brush still pulling through her hair, “It would be grey. There would be no music, no joy or comfort in anything I’d taken solace in before. To be cut off from something that I’d known my whole life would leave me empty.”

For a moment the world slipped away. The pulling sensation of the brush in her hair lulled her into a sense of ease. Back and forth, easy and rhythmic with each pass. She watched her father in the mirror. His gaze locked onto the silvery tresses in his hand like nothing else in the world mattered. 

  
Like nothing between them was awkward and weird.

And that thought shattered the moment. Almost as if he was thinking the same thing, her father let go of her hair and placed the brush aside,

“I’ll be in my office if you still want to start your lessons today.”

He departed with a small smile to her reflection, and her sigh followed him through the door.

“Way to go Taffy,” she muttered to herself as she finished dressing, “you made it weird…”

The Sanctum was unnaturally quiet; Odric was nowhere to be found, nor was Videl or Syrrek. Even Ysova, who raided the pantry more often than not, was missing as well. Taffy made herself a quick lunch, and before long she found herself hesitating outside the doors to the Mirror Room. This was the first time since they’d talked that she was going to willingly be alone with him. Would it be even more awkward?

Her heartbeat quickened at the thought, and she felt the tips of her fingers start to go numb. So many “what if” scenarios ran through her brain and it only added to her rising panic. She could just turn away now, go hide back in her room. Her father had said if she was ready after all.

No, nothing is gonna get better if you keep doing this to yourself. Suck it up and go in there!

And so Taffy steeled the last of her courage and stepped into the Mirror Room. She found her father browsing the extensive collection of books that lined the wall. Movement from above caught her eye and she watched as several tomes fluttered to and from different shelves, passing through the broken mirror shards. Kethys looked up at her entrance,

“Feeling better?”

“Much.” She replied. He carefully placed a book back in its place and met her in the center of the room. The usual chair disappeared in favor of a table with three clay pots. She could make out faint arcane symbols etched into the side, though the pots themselves were dormant. She couldn’t help but eye them curiously. “So… um, what’s the plan for lesson one?”

Her father chuckled and reached across the table to playfully poke the tip of her nose. Taffy blinked in surprise and felt the Weave hum to life around her. A gasp escaped her the next moment as color exploded in her eyes and she took in complex, vibrant threads around her. The only time she’d ever taken the Weave in its raw form was during the Ball, and even then it had been violent and upsetting.

Here there was music and color unlike anything she’d ever experienced before.

“Arcana 101,” her father explained casually, indicating to the threads around them, “What can you tell me about the Weave?”

“Ummm, well,” She averted her gaze in embarrassment, “Odric probably never told you, but I failed most of my magic classes. I mean I even had to cheat to pass the final and my Professor -”

“Taphamelia, I know,” He sounded stern, but certainly not angry, “Your professor was inept to begin with; he couldn’t tell the difference between his own ass and advanced transmutation even if he had the help. So forgive me if I don’t take well to the opinion of a hack with a rudimentary understanding of the Arcane.”

She couldn’t describe the relief she felt at his words. His apparent irritation only served to amuse her, and she couldn’t tell if he was exaggerating for her benefit or not. He sighed deeply and returned his attention back to her. He clasped his arms behind his back,

“Either way,” he shook his head in amusement, “I asked a question, Taffy, I do expect an answer.”

“Oh! Ummm, well the Weave is where all magic comes from. It is the only phenomenon that exists on all planes in the known multiverse, though not everyone knows how to pull spells from it.”

“A basic explanation, but a good start.” Kethys pulled a book down from a high shelf behind her. The pages fluttered to a complex diagram that depicted the known schools of magic and their symbols. “You are correct in the fact that the Weave is the source of all magic that we know of, and most beings living and dead coexist within it. There are exceptions to these rules but they are very rare. Now what are the basic fundamentals for casting magic?”

“First and foremost, someone has to be gifted enough to reach out to the Weave and cast magic,” Taffy furrowed her brow in concentration. It was hard to recall what she knew when she never really bothered with the class in the first place, “There are some who study the Weave and use complex formulae to replicate the magic, using components to facilitate the power needed to cast. There are others who make pacts for their magic, and are gifted with it because of that. The only outlier is those of faith, as no one really knows or understands how they’re able to cast magic without touching the Weave.”

“Very good,” Her father indicated to the clay pots upon the table, “And all of these different classes of casters share one basic principle for magic: focus. This will be the basis for lesson one. You will attempt to fill the containers with your magic without letting them drain or overflow.”

He took one in hand himself and leaned over the table to show her. It lay empty until slowly it began to fill with a shimmering clear liquid until it settled neatly at the brim. Taffy gazed in awe until her father released a sigh and allowed the pot to empty. It was then promptly handed to her.

It was surprisingly light, despite how it looked, and she turned it over in her hands as she looked it over.

“How will I know if I’m doing this right?”

Kethys offered her a small smile and rounded the table. He hovered just over her shoulder and showed her how to properly hold the vessel. His hands rested on her shoulders and the soft baritone of his voice filled her ears, “Close your eyes, Taffy, and breathe in deeply.”

She did as she was told, breathing in and out in time with his soft instruction. The world seemed to fall away with each inhale and exhale until there was nothing left but the soft hum of the Weave. Even with her eyes closed she could still sense its color and power. She could feel it twist and coil like it was a living and breathing thing. So close she could almost reach out and touch it. It sounded like a song in her mind’s eye. More beautiful than any aria ever sung. A cascading chorus filled with light and clear as golden bells that reached a crescendo-

“Taffy!”

She opened her eyes with a gasp and found the clay pot overfilling rapidly. With a yelp she dropped it and winced as it shattered against the floor. Pure magic splashed upon the carpet and evaporated into mist. There was a static charge in the air that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end while her heart felt like it was beating a mile a minute. She glanced over her shoulder to find her father staring at the broken shards of the clay vessel with a look she couldn’t decipher.

Then, as ever, it was whole with a flick of the wrist and back in her hands, 

“Again.” was her simple instruction.

They stayed like so for what felt like hours to her. Working and working yet still achieving the same result as before. A part of her was glad that this manifestation of her magic was limited only to the Weave, otherwise she was absolutely ruining her father’s expensive looking rugs. Taffy scowled and set the clay pot back on the table after the umpteenth failure of the day,

“I am never going to get this.”

Reassuring fingers threaded themselves into her hair to tousle her playfully, “It’s only been a day, Taffy.” Her father gently scolded, “Time and practice will help.” Kethys made the table and pots disappear. “Though I think you’ve had enough for today. We’ll resume these lessons tomorrow.”

He was teasing her and she simply made a face at him in return. It earned her a chuckle that followed her out of the Mirror Room and back downstairs to the dining hall. Videl had returned some time during the day and she was currently eating her fill of dinner.

“I was wondering where you wandered off to.” Taffy commented as she pulled out the nearest chair. One of her father’s ghostly servants appeared with a platter of food and placed it on the table for her before disappearing silently. A hearty stew simmered in the bowl, its rich aroma filling her nose.

“You’re one to talk,” Videl watched her inhale her dinner, “You were sleeping all morning and then you weren’t in your room when I checked on you this afternoon.”

“I had an impromptu magic lesson after I woke up. There was… an incident last night. I set half my room on fire in my sleep.”

A look of surprise crossed her friend’s face before she quickly hid it, “Yeah, I’d say that calls for an emergency classroom session. Are you okay?”

“No burns.” Taffy showed Videl her arms only for the woman to shake her head,

“I’m talking up here.” She was poked gently in the forehead, “You’ve been through a lot. Are you okay?”

Taffy hesitated. What could she say that Videl didn’t already know? There were only so many times she could vent and spiral about the same things before they became tired and old. And she didn’t want to sound like she was whining. Despite her reservations she and her father had found each other again. Despite how scary it was she was beginning to learn how to control her magic. The world was still a bright and beautiful thing, and soon the lot of them would take to the roads once more in a grand adventure.

“Yeah!” She offered Videl a smile, “Everything is fine!” It tasted like a lie in her mouth, bitter and ashen, but she tried not to let it show on her face. Either way, Videl looked as if she didn’t believe her. She was offered a simple shrug in reply, “Gotta keep our chins up; maybe once this whole Cult of Xehere fiasco blows over we’ll be able to hit the road again.”

Her friend smirked with a nod, “Now that’ll be nice. Don’t get me wrong, your Old Man’s place is nice, but I’m gonna go insane if something exciting doesn’t happen soon.”

Taffy laughed, “Hey who knows, maybe something exciting will just drop into our laps!”

She would later come to regret these words, cursing her optimism and naivety, but in the moment she took solace in the warmth Videl’s friendship offered. 


End file.
